Consciousness comes back to me slowly, then slamming inside my head like a train wreck. I sit up and cringe, my hand somehow finding its way to my head to nurse it gently. I pry my eyes open and look around at my surroundings. A bedroom? What am I doing here? A TV across the queen-sized bed, a bathroom to my left, next to the bedside table. I look to my right and find a big lump under the dirty white bedspread. I cry out, a hoarse, cracked whimper as I fall out of the strangers bed and onto the hard, unforgiving floor. I slowly rise, peeking over the edge of the bed only far enough for me to see if he had gotten up or not. He turns over onto his side and snores softly, and I sigh a breath of relief as the corner of my eyes sting with tears. I quietly look around for my clothes, trying to remember what happened last night. Bits and pieces creep into my mind; the stuffy clubs, bright flashing lights, every shot burning down my raw throat. It wasn’t pretty, and neither was the lug snoring loudly a few feet away. I tug on my pants and shirt, pulling my sweater on and zipping it quietly. I turn the rusty handle on his door, quickly squeezing through the small crack I’d opened, not wanting him to wake and watch me make my pathetic escape. But once I'm out of his bedroom, I freeze instantly, his roommate Ron, (or Randy, I cant remember exactly, I cant remember but it doesn't matter anyways), is laying there on the couch. He stares at me blankly and I return the gaze, before finally turning away awkwardly and mutter to him, “I.. I'm going out to eat somewhere.” He doesn’t say anything, but in response he just turns towards the TV and changes the channel, no emotion showing through his face. I slip on my shoes and I'm out the door in a heartbeat, running until I'm a few blocks away. I finally crack, the tears flowing and I slide down the grimy, graffiti-filled wall behind me and put my head in my hands. Shaking, wheezing, howling, and choking out in distress I sit there for what seems like forever, before I finally rise on unstable legs. I lean against the wall for support, and drag myself down the street in a stupor. My head is banging and my throat is unbearably dry, so I stumble my way across the street to a small restaurant. As the waitress comes over to ask me I order, I reach into my back pocket, thinking to call my mom… or even worse, my boyfriend. God, what am I going to tell him? As I reach into my pocket, my fingers find nothing. I gasp loudly, and frantically search all of my pockets. Front pants pockets, back, sweater pockets, nothing. Nothing but lint.

“Nooooooo,” I moan, slamming my head onto the table a few times.
“Are... you okay?” the waitress asks hesitatingly, her hand poised in the air as if she's about to rest it on my shoulder, but is debating whether or not she should.
The vivid memory of my phone on the bedside table in.. Oh god, what was his name.. Johnny?’s room flashes through my mind and I cry silently to myself. Heaving myself from the table I slowly make my way out of there, dreading what lies beyond.

       

“Oh god, what time is it.” I mutter out loud, sitting up in bed. For a second I forget completely where I am, ‘cause partying all night can do that to you. But as I look around at the familiar scene, I know that this is my room and I made it home all right. Suddenly I remember Kirsten, the beautiful, black haired, wild spirited beauty I met last night. She was amazing, freckles sprinkled across her sharp nose, green eyes shining with excitement. I smile and look over to where she lays, but the spot was empty, nothing left but a bump from where she had slept. I sigh sadly, my head drooping, my shoulders slumping. I slide off the bed and scratch my chest before pulling on my pants, and go out into the living room. “Hey, Randy, where did Kirsten go?” I ask my roommate, who is lounging on the couch watchin’ TV. He replies, “Who, that girl you were with last night?” spraying chip crumbs all over the place. “Hey, come on man,” I begin nagging, “Don’t be such a pig. Pick up after yourself when you’re done, ‘kay? And that ‘girl’ happens to have a name, which is Kirsten.” He nods halfheartedly and rolls his eyes, saying nonchalantly, “Yeah, that ‘girl’, she left and said something about eating. Iunno.” Perplexed, I go into the kitchen, wondering what happened to her, what she’s doing. Then it snaps into my head, I have her cell phone number! We have a lot of things in common and I would like to get to know her better. Elatedly I down a cup full of orange juice and run for my phone. I can hardly dial her number, I'm so excited. But once it starts to ring, a rumble and a ring tone play in the background. A puzzled look crosses my face, my eyebrows scrunching up. I go towards the bathroom, the ringing and vibrating getting slightly louder. I look down at the table, and there’s her phone, vibrating its way to the edge and falling. Confused, I pick it up and walk back to the kitchen, and suddenly the doorbell rings and standing there is Kirsten.